The End is a Beginning
by SMYGO4EVA
Summary: Oneshot. Lancer/Rider. Without question, there was nothing left between them, but what they had was enough. Warning: sexual situations.


The End is a Beginning  
by SMYGO4EVA

They were Servants, and there was no more waiting. There was no more of anything but this.

Rider was elusive, bewitching, and implacable, even when she belonged to a false Master, and her very being dedicated to her true Master who hid in the shadows. She held her serpentine chains close, and lunged them outward to her enemies, keeping them on their toes and watching their every move. She was a beauty to behold, even as her eyes were masked for those who would dare oppose her.

Within his Master's orders, Lancer kept a close eye on Rider, his crimson eyes set upon her form as she walked through the darkened corridors. She hummed an unknown lullaby, perhaps distilled by a memory of hers long ago. She knew he was there, she sensed his presence, as he already had seen and known her form many a time.

She was as elusive as she was unpredictable. Her chaos sent a surge of electricity through him, the attraction which was mutual. His crimson spear gripped in his hands, ready to howl, to taste victory. As soon as he leapt from his vantage point, she turned on her feet, her cloaked blade halted his attack. Sparks from both weapons scattered the space between them, filling the void with a crazed skirmish. His spear ground against her blade, the chains billowing around them, caught in each other's orbit.

They had many battles, encounters, and skirmishes prior to this one. Like any good Servant, they were expected to understand that they were there for their Masters, and only for them.

It stood to reason as their battles were fought in secret; there was no holding back. Death was with them all the time, so it was fair to stake their claim as they returned the favor in kind.

They were both covered in injuries, but they couldn't have cared less. Lancer's hands wrapped around Rider's wrists, sliding down to twine their fingers together. She knew his touch, her face growing hot. She heard the edge to her own breathing; the rasped panting of arousal giving her away.

Even when specks of blood fell against Rider's jawline and chest, Lancer planted a series of kisses over her face and pressed his mouth on her hot skin, listening to her moan and whimper in growing arousal. Lancer's hands impatiently gripped Rider's breasts; his lips slippery with blood, when he pressed his mouth onto hers, she tasted copper.

Rider pushed herself up, and she set herself upon his lap, steadied by Lancer's hands on her hips and hiking up her skirt to expose her pale legs. Her hands roamed all over the contours of his face, his chest and his arms. She steadied herself before she rolled her hips against his hardened member straining against his full-body outfit. Lancer half-gasped as he grabbed her thighs, shuddering, and pressed his fingers to the front of her thin, black panties, searching for the nub he knew was there. She pulled down the front of his full-body outfit, releasing his awakened member, and he moaned; she then resumed straddling him, her clothed wetness rubbing against his arousal.

He held her close, panting into her neck until he felt tension building, churning in his belly. She gasped out loud, delighted, her form quaking and grinding on his groin, light-headed and desperate, as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her lips smashed back to onto his, working through the jolts of painful pleasure, her nails biting into his biceps. The only sounds were clothes rustling and sharp breathing in the darkened corridor. Lancer growled, pulling away, as the tension expanded, but he gripped her close, his ravenous mouth placed on her tender neck.

The aching warmth abruptly cascaded over her, and she came with a sweet, shameless cry that echoed in the empty space. Hot pulses of pleasure shook her to her core as her body seized and shook apart. He then came, a low grunt escaping him in the aftermath, his release staining her quaking her thighs as they succumbed into long-sought pleasure.

They had nothing more to offer, as they were breathless, panting in unison, not even with a thought of the real world.

Almost cautiously, Rider let her fingers caress the bruises she marked upon Lancer's skin. He returned her gesture by reaching out a hand and stroking her hair. She was still there, hanging by the thread. But he held her hand, tracing the curve of her knuckles with his calloused fingers, lacing them together and squeezed tight.

Without question, there was nothing left between them, but what they had was enough.

They had this; it wasn't permanent, as their presence was only temporary. But it was theirs. No Holy Grail War was going to take that away from them.


End file.
